That Beautiful World By Stephen V. Ramey

In the beautiful world we knew as children, there was no brimstone, only introspection, a chance to gather ourselves from the glorious treachery of a day lived full. We sank onto knees scuffed and scraped from play and asked for love in a voice that moved inside us like fabric turning inside out. We glimpsed the quilting of our lives in those slow minutes, the way things work, the benevolence of a God only imaginary before. He was real. We were matchsticks and He the flame that lit us.

When it was over, we would stand, and, for a few seconds more, silence would cloak us from each other. Then, with the sharp persistence of the inevitable, noise would return, the noise of the city, the noise of our troublesome flesh, the noise of each other.

Love pounded by ticking seconds cannot endure. Glittering dust settles into shadow, and we are left to deal with ourselves. Your heaven is not my heaven and my heaven is not yours.

Predatory shadow, sharp-toothed mantra, gnawing until only blood is real and violence our means of communication.

Do you wonder what might have changed had we not turned from each other? Imagine God touching your face — warm as the sun — me falling to my knees beside you, and as the dirt sprinkles from my fist, imagine it clinging to our skin until we are once again cocooned in that beautiful world.

© 2015 Stephen V. Ramey

Stephen V. Ramey lives in beautiful New Castle, Pennsylvania. His work has appeared in many places, and he has edited three volumes of the respected Triangulation anthology from Parsec Ink. His first collection of (very) short fictions, Glass Animals (Pure Slush Books) is available wherever fine books are e-sold. Find him at http://www.stephenvramey.com

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